


Stuck in Traffic

by MaddieStilinski



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Baby Werewolves, Domestic Fluff, Frozen (2013) References, M/M, Parent Derek, Parent Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 22:16:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2205018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaddieStilinski/pseuds/MaddieStilinski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'You’re right,’ Stiles sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face. ‘Next time, we’re leaving them with Dad.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stuck in Traffic

**Author's Note:**

> So here's a little something that I've had saved up a while. I've been focused on a few other projects a lot, and I know I haven't uploaded any short fics in a while, so I thought I'd give you this one. 
> 
> I really like writing stuff like this, and I'm considering making a domestic Sterek series, so if you'd be interested in that, let me know :)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like it! Let me know what you think in the comments, and as always, ENJOY! :)

‘Remind me again why we decided to drive?’

‘Because last time we went on a plane, you threw up six times.’

Stiles groans, buries his head in his hands.

‘I don’t care,’ he says, rubbing at his eyes with the sleeves of his hoodie. 'I’ll get over it. Anything’s better than this.’

Derek laughs, glances in the rear-view mirror. They’ve been stuck in traffic for the last hour, and it doesn’t look like they’re moving any time soon. Thankfully the kids are all asleep, Erica nuzzling into Isaac’s shoulder, pushing him onto Boyd, who’s face is buried in the back of his hoodie. Derek shakes his head. 'You want to take _those_ three on a _plane_?’

    

He watches Stiles sit up, instinctively check them, his eyes lingering over each of their faces like they’re the living embodiment of perfection. It makes something in Derek’s heart flutter. 

'You’re right,’ Stiles sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face. ‘Next time, we’re leaving them with Dad.’

Derek snorts. ‘Stiles, you know we can’t do that. It’s not fair.’

‘On the kids? They’ll be fine-’

‘Not them, your Dad.’

Stiles smiles and a rush of cold races down Derek’s spine. His eyes are tired and bloodshot and _shit_ , this is not the time to be turned on. Derek has to look away before he does something stupid. 

 

‘Fine,’ Stiles yawns. ‘We’ll leave them with Scott.’

‘Sure he’d appreciate that.’

‘He can appreciate my ass,’ Stiles says and _Jesus Christ_ he’s not making this easy. ‘We looked after his dog for a whole week last month.’

Derek rolls his eyes, remembering how much Stiles had _hated_ the six am walks Derek had forced him to go on, how much he'd moaned for hours about the cold and the walking and the _six am starts._ Derek still laughs just thinking about it. 

‘Ahh come on,’ he says, fiddling with the air con. ‘It wasn’t _that_ bad,’ 

Stiles glares at him. ‘He ate three pairs of shoes.’

Derek smirks and turns back to the steering wheel. ‘Point taken.’

 

‘I don’t see why we bother to go on holiday anyway,’ Stiles says, scowling out the window. ‘It’s not like we can _do_ anything.’

Derek snorts. 'And by that do you mean, ' _can't have sex_?''

Stiles huffs. 'Exactly.'

'Stiles, the holiday was _your_ idea,’ Derek sighs, tapping his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel.

‘I _know_ that,’ Stiles replies, rolling his eyes. ‘But I didn’t expect it to be so freaking hard. I think I’m actually more tired now than I was when we left.’

  

He sighs and slumps back against the seat. Derek doesn’t say anything, mainly because there’s nothing to say, but also because he’s concentrating on rubbing circles into Stiles’ hand.

He hums contently, watching the traffic on the other side of the road go by before adding, ’I suppose it could be worse. At least the kids are asle-‘

 

Before Stiles can finish his sentence, a soft yawn sounds from the backseat, followed by the sound of tiny stretching limbs. Derek freezes, silently gestures towards the back. Stiles nods, scrunches his face up.

‘Daddy,’ Erica murmurs, her voice still heavy with sleep. ‘Where are we?’

‘We’re nowhere, sweetie,’ Stiles replies. ‘You’re dreaming. Close your eyes, that’s a good girl.’

   

Derek has to commend Stiles for trying.

For a moment, it looks like Erica’s buying it. She even closes her eyes and leans her head against the door. But their lives are never that easy. 

‘She’s not dreaming, Daddy,’ Isaac yawns, mouth wide. ‘Her heart’s all jumpy.’

‘Yeah, I’m _wiiiiddde_ awake,’ Erica laughs, kicking Stiles’ seat with her tiny, three year old feet, bumping it back and forth violently. Stiles looks mutinous.

‘Are you, sweetie?’ he says softly, turning round to face her. ‘Well that’s just great. Why don’t you try kicking Daddy Derek’s seat instead?’

 

Derek whips his head round and catches Stiles’ expression. It’s triumphant and cheeky and Derek can’t be mad because _jesus christ_ it’s his freaking kryptonite. 

He looks back into the rear-view mirror, notices how Erica follows his eyes the entire time. ‘Erica, darling, just remember who has your sweets.’

‘You can’t blackmail them,’ Stiles hisses indignantly, like he doesn’t do it _all the time_. 

Derek laughs, shrugs his shoulders. ‘My car, my rules.’

‘That’s bullshit and you know it,’ Stiles whispers from behind his seat, almost silently so the kids can’t hear. They may be werwolves, but they’re supernatural hearing is still a little shy of ‘super.’ Stiles thinks it’s brilliant. Derek’s just waiting for the strength to kick in. 

 

 

‘Daaaaaaaaaddddddd.’

Derek winces, and sees Stiles do the same. He’s chewing the skin around his thumb nervously, like he used to in high school. Derek leans over and holds his hand again to stop him drawing blood.

‘Yes,’ Derek replies. 

‘What is it sweeite?’ Stiles adds, craning his neck to see them in the mirror. 

‘Can we put the CD on?’

 

 _Fuck_.

  

‘Oh, sweetie, I _really_ don’t think that’s a good idea-‘

Stiles tries to sound authoritative when he turns round, but Derek knows it’s all for nothing. Because Erica and Isaac are pouting, full on _pouting_ at him. Erica’s even doing the puppy dog eyes she learnt from Scott. Fucking genius.

Derek sighs and counts silently in his head three _, two, one…’_

 

‘Should we just put it on?’

Derek tries not to roll his eyes. ‘Jesus, Stiles, does it not concern you that you can’t win against a three year old?’

‘But _look_ at them,’ Stiles coos, his face imitating the kids perfectly. 'They're so  _cute._ '

'I don’t care,’ Derek growls under his breath. ‘We’ve listened to it _four times_ already.’

Stiles lets his head drop back against the head rest, exposing his neck and _fuck_ that should be illegal because Derek has a thing for Stiles’ neck and right now all he wants to do is sink is fucking teeth into it.  

‘Oh come on, Derek it’s not _that_ bad.’

‘Stiles, I swear to God.’

He turns away front he steering wheel, pokes his head into the back, ready for a full on intervention. Because there is no way in hell he is listening to that goddam CD-

‘Are we putting the CD on?’

 

Now it’s Derek’s turn to smash his head into the car seat. Because they might have won against Erica and Isaac, but with Boyd in on it, they have no chance. 

‘Yeah, yeah, yeah!’ Erica and Isaac sing together. Derek almost growls.

 

He turns back to the front and sighs. Because Stiles looks like he could be persuaded to take the kids to _freaking Mars_ if they asked him to. 

‘You’re literally the least assertive person I know. No wonder I get so many blow-‘

‘Come on Derek, just once, and then we can turn it off,’ Stiles interrupts, pouting at Derek like a lost freaking puppy. He reaches out and rubs Derek's shoulder, massages it like he doesn't know it turns Derek into a walking pile of goo.

‘Fine,’ he grumbles, ‘But after that, we’re not having it on again for the rest of the day.’

‘Look who's assertive now,’ says Stiles, happily, squeezing his thigh. 

Derek rolls his eyes for what must be the thousandth time since he got in the damn car. ‘Don’t start. You realise you owe me big time for this.’

Stiles laughs and kisses his cheek, the imprint of his lips lingering for a moment after he pulls away. 

‘I think I can find a way to make it up to you.’   

Derek laughs. ‘You better.’

 

Despite the voice in his head telling him to stop, Derek pushes play. He glances over at Stiles, who’s sunk so low, his back’s actually resting on the seat.

 _’I’m so sorry,’ he_ mouths, scrunching his face up like he does every time they have to sit though it. 

 Derek sighs and resigns to his fate, lets the music play. He sinks back into his own seat, as if the added padding around his ears’ll make it less annoying.

  

The song plays for three seconds before Derek decides he’s throwing the fucking thing away as _soon_ as they get home. 

 

But he still can’t help the little smile that curls onto his lips when all three of them, in unison, bang their tiny fists against the window and scream at the top of their lungs. 

‘DO YOU WANNA BUILD A SNOWMAAAAN!!!!?’

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any prompts, or you just wanna cry over Sterek with me, then come find me on [Tumblr](http://sourwolfsam.tumblr.com) and drop me an ask!


End file.
